University of Virginia Library

Psalme. C.xlvi. Exaltabo te deus.

O God I wyll, thee magnifye


My Lorde and Kyng always:
For euermore, I wyll thy name
Honour laude & eke prayse.


Eche daye by daye, I wyll geue thanks
Unto thy maiestye:
And thy name prayse, for euermore
Lord for thy great mercy.
Thy myght O Lorde, is maruelous
And worthy of much prayse:
Thy powre O Lorde, is infinite
And dure it wyll alwayes.
One generacion, vnto an other
Shall thus saye and recorde:
Praysynge thy works, & shewe therby
The powre of thee, their Lorde.
And as for me, I wyll not cease
But tell of thy glorye:
Of thy worshyp, and wonderous works
Thee for to magnifye.
All men shall speake, of thy great powre
And thy maruelous actes:
I wyll shewe forth, and tel abrode
Of all thy noble factes.
A memory, of thy mercy
I wyll shewe and expresse:
So that men shall, vnto thee synge
Of thy righteousnes.


The Lords goodnes, is wondrous great
Whose grace is most plentye:
Longe sufferynge, our wickednes
And abounds with mercy.
The Lorde our God full louyng is
Unto eche creature:
Ouer his worcks, his mercy is
And wyll euer indure.
All thy worcks of, wondre O Lorde
Thee prayse and magnifye:
And al thy saints, do render thanks
Unto thy maiestie.
The glory great, of thy kyngdome
They do shewe and expresse:
And all their taulke, is for to tell
Of thy powre and goodnesse.
That thereby thy, glory and powre
Maye forth abrode be blowen:
And the greatnes, of thy kyngedome
Myght to all men be knowen.
Thy kyngedome is, euerlastynge
For euer to remayne:
And dure shal thy, dominion
In all ages to rayne.


The Lorde forgetteth, not the state
Of those that go astraye:
But rayseth vp, suche as are downe
To brynge them to his waye.
The eyes here of, all lyuynge thyngs
On thee O Lorde attende:
And thou their meate, in due season
Dost then vnto them sende.
Thy greate goodnes, thou dost extende
When thy hande thou opnest:
Eche thynge lyuynge, with plenteousnes
With thy blessynge thou fyllest.
The Lord our God, in all his wayes
Is iuste and righteous bothe:
And holy is, in all his works
The witnes of his trothe:
Suche as vpon, the Lord do call
Shewynge theyr payne and griefe:
He dothe pyttye, their myserye
And ease them wyth reliefe.
The Lorde the desyre, wyll fulfyll
Of suche as do hym feare:
At nede he shal, ayde to them sende
And wyl their prayer heare.


The Lord wyll sure, defende all suche
As do hym feare and loue:
But the wycked, he wyll dysparse
And their doynges reproue.
My mouth O Lord, for euermore
Shall speake vnto thy prayse:
All creatures to, thyne holy name
Shall render thanks alwayes.
To put oure truste, onely in God
vve are here playnly taught:
And hym to prayse, for all his vvorks
That heauen and earth hath vvrought.